


A strong flame

by MultiFandomAngst



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: First Meeting, I wanted to see Nasir be sassy, M/M, Missing Scenes, canon compliant 3x02, continuing through Vengence, just a little thing I wanted to happen, like pre-slash, will update tags as I post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiFandomAngst/pseuds/MultiFandomAngst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And you reason to kill the bringer of rain, to what end?" Agron asked.<br/>"To save others of similar position from dying of lost cause lead by him. Or greet the afterlife in attempt," the boy said unhesitatingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something I wanted to see to fill in a couple blanks cause Nasir is a sassy little shit and a bleeding heart and I love that.

Agron was drifting in the land of unconsciousness, body and mind too exhausted from the attack and victory on yet another villa to allow any dreams to torment him.  
He had only laid on his sparse bedroll for what felt as but a moment before he was being shaken, Donar squatted down beside him slapping his cheeks roughly.  
"Rise brother, attempt has been made on Spartacus' life. He summons you."  
Remains of sleep were cast away at the news, Agron rising quickly and securing his sword while he made way to the room they had been discussing strategy plans in not three hours before.  
Upon arrival Agron found the Gaul was pacing the floor, throwing hateful speared looks at the smaller man with dark hair being restrained by two others much larger than he. Spartacus was leaned against the table, dagger in his hands, eyeing the boy in contemplation.  
"You yet wish to train this fuck?" The Gaul asked.  
"The boy deserves opportunity," Spartacus argued.  
"He was given such a thing and made attempt on your life in response."  
Agron was loathe to admit it, "God save me, I find myself in agreement with a Gaul."  
"He had known nothing but slavery, strength of such a tether not easily severed. Especially for one of the position of a body slave."  
"Perhaps never to be so," Crixus speculated.  
"And if we take his life?" Agron watched the slave's eyes fell to the ground. "What message does that send the others to take up our cause?"  
"That they best be agreeable?" Agron offered.  
"We're Romans then?" Spartacus demanded immediately, "Commanding through fear and threat of death."  
"If he makes attempt again, despite your gracious gift of life, I will make sure he joins his Dominous in the afterlife," Crixus said, backhanding the boy across the face.  
Agron was surprised not only that the boy stared hatefully back at the Gaul, but also that he spoke unwavering, "And what gift is this that you claim to have given? You have done nothing but condemn us to death at the hands of the Rome."  
"You have gained freedom," Spartacus replied, stepping forward as if the shorter the distance the words had to travel the easier they would penetrate thick skull, "No longer are you forced to bend and break at the hand of someone who claims you. You are a free man."  
"Gladiators," the boy sneered, blood dripping down his chin, "think only of themselves in moment of passion. What of my fellow slaves, ones who cannot take up arms, nor be of any use? What will their fates hold in this rebellion?"  
"Whatever they choose," Spartacus replied.  
"A choice flattened at your heel! Were we to turn away from this rebellion we would be put to death for aiding the demise of our dominous, set as an example. Should we stay and parish due to hunger as your men eat the food, or fall behind in travel? You think house slaves so different from you, the mighty gladiators, but it is not of truth. We all fight to survive this life under the Romans, you trained with sword and steel and us with steady hand as to not make mistake. I gained position of body slave not for my own security, but to protect those under this roof from the fate of the mines! And now we shall all suffer for what you have done." The boy finished, glaring venomously at Spartacus.  
"And you reason to kill the bringer of rain, to what end?"Agron asked.  
"To save others of similar position from dying of lost cause lead by him. Or greet the afterlife in attempt," the boy said unhesitatingly.  
"Cowardly attempt to avoid confrontation he knew he could not best," Crixus muttered.  
The boy looked to the Gaul in manner that Agron was familiar, "Had I sought only to end my life I would have attacked the Gaul, as baser animal who would not have halted in wonder of reasoning."  
Spartacus had to caution strong arm against Crixus' motion to strike the boy again, "Caution, brother. He speaks with tongue sharpened due to worry of those close to him. A strong flame we may yet set alight into that of a warrior."  
Agron's minuscule placement of hand on gladius in preparation of rebuttal was unnecessary as the Gaul simply nodded tensely and stalked away.  
Spartacus sighed and returned to lean against the table, looking at the restrained boy with interest.  
"And just how do you intend to train this wild little dog?" Agron asked casually, internally smug that it set the boys burning eyes upon him for a moment before looking at the ground again.  
"The same way Batiatus and Doctore trained me," Spartacus said with confidence.  
Agron cast disbelieving eyes toward him, "Cause that turned out so well."  
The look he received was unblinking bemusement, then changed into one of realization at Agron's meaning.  
"Return to your beds," Spartacus commanded the three before him, "I do not believe there will be any more trouble in these walls tonight."  
Casting one last look at them both, the dark skinned boy quickly left the room, destination seemingly in mind.  
"You place trust in one who attempted to send you to the afterlife to not to try again?"  
"I cannot blame the boy for acting like so," Spartacus sighed, "When we were torn from our homes, did we not attempt foolish things? This life is the only one he has ever known, he seeks to save those he can."  
Agron had not viewed the boy in the same situation that he and Duro had suffered, unable to imagine such a thing from one serving as a slave at the hands of a Roman, yet now he did see faint resemblance.  
"In this tale we would be cast as enemies, set to frighten children," Agron said through gritted teeth.  
"He needs but time. Veil will part to reveal truth and he shall join cause."  
"Until then, brother," Agron clapped him on the shoulder, "Sleep with sword in grasp and I shall do the same."  
Upon reaching his bedroll laid out in one of the corners of the hall, Agron spotted a group huddling around the dark haired boy, a woman of long blonde hair that he recognized as leaving the room with the boy and Dominous, turning his face different directions to better see his injury.  
Despite being the one with blood spilled, he seemed to be applying the soothing balm of words to those around him, each relaxing minutely as he touched them. While watching from the shadows, Agron saw each eventually take their leave, many curling up on sparse cloth in the courtyard until only he remained in the moonlight.  
His dark eyes scanned the yard, most likely habit to make sure everything was in place, and landed on Agron. Their eyes connected for but a moment before the boy dropped his gaze and disappeared from sight.  
As Agron laid down on his bedroll he vowed he would be keeping watchful eye on the boy, either until he proved himself as trustworthy or died at the edge of the sword.


	2. Tether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am envious," Tiberius said suddenly, "of what you shared with your brother."  
> "You envy that my brother died in my arms?" Agron asked in a mild tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here is my continuation of their relationship, plenty more yet to come!!!!  
> I needed a back story for Nasir, sue me.  
> (Please don't, I'm too poor)

Dawn's light brought noise to the villa that Tiberius had never known in his many years of serving as slave there. The clanging of steel, positions shouted, grunts and yells of frustration sounding from the courtyard where every slave of able body and will gathered to train with swords.  
For the first time since he arrived Tiberius did not immediately rise with the sun to see to his Donimous' needs, to stand idle by his bed until woken and give pleasure with tongue and lips. Instead he stood in the early break of dawn with heavy sword in hand, awakening muscles with the movements commanded. With how many times he had accompanied his Dominous to a gladiator spectacle, it was not unknown to him the basic movements, knowledge quickly lifting him to sparing with a Gaul, shortly replaced with Spartacus.  
While Tiberius would not have faulted him to bring sword upon flesh with vengeance in mind, he was surprised no such injury happened, only gentle prods upon unprotected skin, never stained with blood. When one such slap was applied between his shoulder blades, Tiberius could hardly contain the hiss that wished to make itself known, a trait he has had since he was taken from his homeland so many years ago.  
"Carry shield as well as sword?" Spartacus reminded, standing firmly opposite to Tiberius, "Again."  
Sudden fierce strikes were blocked as Tiberius remembered to raised his arm, the force of the blows forcing him into a crouch. When released from such attacks, he felt a flash of a smile dwell on his lips.  
"Good," Spartacus praised for a moment, then twisted his sword in a way Tiberius was unprepared for, sending him forward with the handle of the man's sword dug into his back, forcing him to release his own onto the sand.  
"You expose flank, the road of many a great man.  
"I'm no fucking soldier," Tiberuis replied, as Spartacus bend to retrieve the fallen sword, causing few Gauls who were watching to laugh.  
It was not unknown to him, the weight of the eyes of many men, as his Dominous would often parade him at celebrations, letting anyone who could pay enough coin take him to their bed. The gladiator's gazes were of different weight, maybe some of lust, but most were distrustful, seeking for any slight that should cause reason to strike him down. Tiberius knew he was destined for these burdens since he attempted to taking the rebel king's life, so he held his tongue with the same control he used when he would be forced into someone's bed, imagining their jeers as the sweaty hands that would handle him roughly, only to be washed away with cool water in bath.  
Spartacus took note of them and held the gladis out for Tiberius to take, "Not yet."  
Taking the steel into his palm once again, Tiberius fought with himself as to make the words that crawled up his throat known, "It is heaver than I imagined."  
 "It will lighten with time," Spartacus shared, looking at his own hand as if recalling a time when it did not wield the sword so easily.  
 "And when it becomes as a feather?" he demanded, "What purpose you think it shall fly to?"  
Spartacus stepped forward until Tiberius had to look up into his eyes, a burning in his own due to the command he knew he would not obey, even if it caused his death at the end of the sword in the gladiator's hand.  
"One of your own choosing."  
Though the words had been spoken the night before and met with anger, Tiberius felt his fire diminish. This man was not going to make the demands as a Roman would, or his own rebellion would enlist.  
Slipping back into the stance of a slave, Tiberius placed his eyes on the ground, he was given no more choice than a lamb lead to slaughter.  
"Now set foot to path," Spartacus instructed, stepping away and raising sword, "and come at me again."

 

Unannounced to Tiberius or Spartacus, Agron joined the folds of men standing to watch the training take place, trading places with another to shout basic positions at the house slaves who thought they could become warriors. The dark skinned boy had improved a great deal faster than any of the others had in such a short amount of time, and though Agron could see the flaws in his means of attack, he had to admit the boy was diligent in his learning.  
"Should've put the boy down," Donar commented, needing not to look to see who stood behind him, "Dog bites once, it will bear fucking teeth again."  
While Agron would have agreed with the statement mere hours before, he now stood torn between paths. The boy was a dangerous gamble, as Agron had already seen the slaves of this villa looked to him for instruction, he could lead a small gathering intent on alerting the Romans of where they resided and their desired destination. Yet the boy also only made attempt to keep those he held close safe, as misguided as that attempt was. It reminded Agron distinctly of Duro, always trying to protect despite being of no ability. While current rebellion left no room for mistakes due to sentiment, Agron took the feeling to wounded heart.  
"Pity," he settled on, neither agreeing nor condemning.  
Training continued on until darkness overwhelmed the villa and ceased only when lamps were lit and meal broken.  
Upon being asked, Agron would have no reason why as to bring drink to the boy who was positioned at the base of a post, intently watching all those around him.  
"You press fortune, glaring so at the slayer of Theocolese," he smirked.  
"His victory but proven even giants fall," the boy responded without pause.  
Agron could not help the chuckle that escaped him, one of true amusement as opposed to the hysteric humor that has cloaked him since Duro's death. His offer of drink was accepted with momentary hesitance, a thing Agron could not blame a slave for exhibiting.  
"What name do you go by, little man?" Agron asked as the boy drank, "So I may properly mourn your passing."  
"I'm called Tiberius."  
"Tiberius?" Agron grimaced as the name rolled off his tongue, "You're far too dark to have such a fair Roman name."  
"I'm more Roman than Syrian," Tiberius said.  
"There was a Syrian in our ludus," Agron offered after they watched the crowd for a moment, unwilling to part company yet, "Treacherous fuck if ever there breathed. You had family there?"  
Tiberius seemed to have difficulty saying the words, "I only recall a brother."  
Although it was a common happening among slaves with Romans heeding no concern to kin, Agron's heart ached for the boy who must have felt the same pain.  
"I too, had a brother."  
"No longer?"  
Agron shook his head, memories of the slash of swords, Duro's blood hot upon his hands, the look in his eyes as he crossed to the afterlife. "He was struck down by the Romans."  
"When you turn swords against them?"  
The words were said perhaps with too much intensity, turning Agron's blood to fire. He breathed deep as to not release the fury upon the boy, casting a cruel smile toward him, "As you will one day. If you hold any fucking sense."  
Agron departed quickly, seeking only to not let his fire brand those around him.

 

Tiberius did not know why he sought to make apology to the gladiator Agron as his words were not meant to cause such a fire in his eyes or twisted smile. Yet feeling of guilt remained, forcing him to scour the entire villa until he finally caught sight of him upon courtyard wall.  
Those among the woken surrounding were either standing guard or swaying with drink, interested only in a fuck before sleep took them. Tiberius was not far from the wall when Agron turned, catching sight of him only to turn back to task.  
"I seek to make apology known for unintended slight upon memory of beloved brother," Tiberius called just loud enough to be heard.  
After a moment of silence, Agron spoke, "Come join me, little man, so that our words do not wake the whole villa."  
Despite the remark of his height, Tiberius easily pulled himself up the wall to sit beside Agron.  
"Gratitude, though apology is unnecessary," Agron admitted, "Wounded heart took simple words harshly."  
Tiberius could only nod, feeling in chest unchanged by words spoken. They were silent for a moment, staring out at the landscape.  
"I am envious," Tiberius said suddenly, "of what you shared with your brother."  
   "You envy that my brother died in my arms?" Agron asked in a mild tone.  
Tiberius shook his head, "You mistake event, I speak of love that must have been shared for you to grieve so."  
Agron tensed slightly at the words, looking over at him, "Did you and your brother not share such a bond before you were forced apart by trade?"  
"My brother sold me into this life," Tiberius said plainly.  
The gladiator looked at him in disbelief, "I was under impression you were taken from homeland. Not sold by kin."  
"You believe truth, we were both taken from our village. Once a ship brought us to these shores we were sold in the market, I to remain with him." Tiberius felt the sting of loss from speaking of such distant memories, of the name he once held so dear. "My brother was far older than I, and he quickly secured the position of body salve to the domina. Within a few years the domina took notice of me and made known that when I reached of suitable age, I was to replace my brother. For those that carried her brand, there was no chance of being resold, he was destined for the mines. On the next trip to market to sell what slaves the dominus requested, he bound me with them."  
"You recall tale without voice of anger," Agron noted, looking torn.  
Tiberius sighed and looked over at him, "My brother did what he had to to survive. While his actions struck deep and only faint love remains, he is a tether to the life I no longer remember, to which I hold dear."  
"I would rather have died than condemned my brother by my hand."  
Tiberius felt a hesitant smile on his lips as he stared out into the darkness, "He was very lucky then, for the gods to grace you as his brother."  
"Fuck the gods," was Agron's immediate reply, shaking his head and grinning.  
"Perhaps," Tiberius allowed, faintly concerned with how the gladiator was able to bring smile upon lips that have been tightly sealed for so long.  
"I'll leave you in peace," Tiberius said, twisting himself to face the inside of the courtyard, "I must make known if every body has found suitable bed."  
"May you yet live to see another day of training," Agron called as he jumped down.  
Tiberius simply entered the villa quietly, unknowing how to respond to the constantly changing man behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have more chapters and post them when I can.  
> Thank you so very much for reading this, comments and kudos welcome!!!


	3. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The choice of a free man, which the branded slave named Tiberius knew nothing of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, the feedback I'm getting is truly amazing!!!!  
> 345 hits and 14 kudos?!?!?!?!?!?!?! :OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
> And ZERO comments?? well gosh golly me, I am truly touched to know you guys love this so much!
> 
> Cheat sheet: {Total Sarcasm}

Much of the same continued the following day and Tiberius' whole being was aching by sundown. While he was no stranger to labor, from his years as a house slave to keeping the appearance that his dominus desired, the constant wielding of steel caused many pains.  
Before he broke meal with the others, Tiberius set to cleansing any wounds of others gained in the day, be it from inexperienced hands slicing self, thrusts swung too wide and harming others, bloody noses from falling, or damaged palms from gripping sword too tightly. While Tiberius knew he was still not of trust he was surprised that many former slaves not of the villa came to receive his aid, brandishing wounds not cared for in rush of rebellion, causing him to fetch more clean water and tear strips of cloth from bedding to bandage them all.  
When all was finished, warm meal was cold, yet Tiberius saw no dissatisfaction, pleased that those around him would be in no more pain. Actions resulted in contemplative gaze from Mira, woman who had alerted Spartacus of oncoming attack in nights past and since stared at Tiberius in suspicion and distrust. When bowel was empty, Tiberius settled down beside fire in a decorative stone and engaged in conversation with Naid, a boy he had had to keep from fate of mines often.   
It was during this that Crixus entered through the gates, quickly followed by his men, and drew immediate attention from Spartacus.   
"Torchers. Arriving from the north."   
"How many?" Spartacus asked urgently.   
"Six, maybe more. Gather the men!" Crixus called.   
"Wait, it may be scouts from a larger force," Spartacus reasoned, "If a single rider was to escape our grasp, it would bring a far greater concern."   
"Then we shall grip tightly," Crixus said.   
Tiberius rose from his place, mind already making plans for if they failed to stop someone from alerting a possible horde. He would have former slaves prepare immediately to leave, position them at rear villa to begin journey should one roman escape, women and children in front and men protecting from behind. Little supplies could be gathered or carried due to lack of time, a problem he had no solution for, they would have to do without. With hastily made plan in mind, Tiberius locked eyes with Spartacus.   
"There is a better way. One that will keep our movements yet hidden from the Romans. Tiberius," he called, "would your master not have left you in his place, should he have left to visit elsewhere?"   
While unknowing of cause, Tiberius nodded once.   
"What meaning do you have of this?" Crixus demanded, looking back and forth between them.   
"Should highest ranking slave answer door to Roman scouts and give story to dominous being absent of own will, would they not return to command?"   
"You would yet place more trust in a Syrian already proven to betray us?"  
"Spartacus, you cannot be serious." Agron said in disbelief, looking at Tiberius briefly before turning to the two men in front of him.  
"If anything does not go to plan, we will be hidden in the shadows to take their lives. Tiberius," Spartacus spoke directly to him, "I do not wish to press decision. Think this not to aid our cause, but to ensure whatever path you choose will be traveled in safety. "   
For slightest moment, Tiberius was utterly blank of decision. Years of slavery conditioned every request to be answered with a 'Yes Dominous' however this was not a command but a request to a free man. One that could be denied, should Tiberius deem it so. This was not mindless training in hot sun or routine care of villa or a senseless fuck, it was the first real decision he had been greeted with since the fall of his dominous. The choice of a free man, which the branded slave named Tiberius knew nothing of.   
It was obvious that Spartacus expected him to say yes, to protect not only a future path for himself, but also for those Tiberius considered under his care. While his refusal would not be dooming them all, there was the slight chance of escape in bloodshed. If he were to convince the scouts otherwise, persuade them to leave without suspicion, they would be safe from massacre. Tiberius could see the reasoning behind the plan, along with the manipulation, and had to spare precious moment of thought for how much like a Roman Spartacus was.   
Tiberius found himself with two choices; he could back away from this freedom he did not know and back into the role of slave he had played for so many years of his life, or he could take the first step to finding the boy he was before the Romans. With decision made, Tiberius felt slight weight lift from shoulders as he nodded to Spartacus, as if invisible shackle of Roman rule was dissolved with rebellious act.  
"Position yourselves out of sight," Spartacus commanded the men around him, "but keep arms ready. The rest of you take cover in the villa!"   
Tiberius turned to find Charada coming toward him against the flow of those heading to the villa with a alarmed look upon her face, "Tiberius! Have you gone mad?"  
"Worry not," he cautioned, placing calming hand against her cheek, "lead the others to cover in the storage rooms and remain quiet. All will be well."   
Her eyes gave way to the confusion of his choice, yet she nodded and squeezed his hand in response, turning to help one with wound to safety of cover.   
Crixus strode forward until the tip of his sword was positioned at Tiberius' throat, "Should you give even slight hint to Romans of our presence, your head will roll upon this sand," he threatened.  
"Enough, Crixus! The men approach," Spartacus commanded, urging him to join him behind a curtained wall. The gual glared at Tiberius one last time before disappearing behind it, leaving Tiberius alone to slip into his demeanor of slave.  
When the wooden gate was pounded, Tiberius answered it as he was trained to, eyes meekly surveying the men, not speaking until spoken to.   
"I would have words with your dominous," a roman with scar upon left cheek commanded as he brushed past Tiberius into the courtyard, "On orders of Sepias."   
"Apologies," Tiberius replied, thinking quickly as he walked around to face the man as the others poured in, "business has called him to Pikentia."   
"Pikentia?" he asked in a perplexed voice, forcing Tiberius backward with every step he took, "I've never known him to favor the city."   
"He does not," Tiberius agreed, then forced a small smile, "he favors it's whores."   
The roman chuckled, "You are his body slave, are you not?"   
"Tiberius."   
"Tiberius, tell me," he said through gritted teeth as he unsheathed his sword, the other following in the like, "why you are not at your dominous' side?"  
Though fear sized his being, Tiberius let nothing show, only looking around proudly, "Because there is no one he trusts more to see his villa attended. While his cock is satisfied."  
"You serve your master well," he replied approvingly, his eyes raking down Tiberius' body as he made movement to turn away. Lust ceased to exist however, when eyes fell upon bear neck.   
Tiberius cast his eyes downward, knowing the exposed skin was a death sentence either by his sword or one of the other's. The roman looked around the courtyard, taking in the unlevel sand due to more than what a few slaves could cause. When the man faced him again, Tiberius was certain he would feel blade slicing skin before Spartacus' men could attack.   
"Return to your charge," the roman said surprisingly, voice hardened as he turned to leave.   
Tiberius knew without doubt that the man would be returning with others and cast about for something to keep them here, to warn the men hiding in the shadows.   
"Wait!" he called, swallowing deeply when they did, "you have come a fair distance from Capua. Come, and I will give you something to make effort worth while."   
Few foolish soldiers looked pleased at the notion, yet the scarred man did not. Tiberius only hopped that such a outrageous offer would alert the rebellion that something was wrong.   
Without another moment passing a war cry came from behind Tiberius, men pouring from every wall and swords being drawn. Tiberius threw himself backwards out of harm's way, landing upon ass and watching the battle before him. Having not seen the original siege on the villa, this was the first time he was witness to when they fought to the death.   
Despite heart pounding and gut in knots at the sight, Tiberius was transfixed at the way they fought with grace and fluid motion, every thrust striking mark yet never harming fellow brother, even as they danced upon the sands. To his right, Agron was viciously stabbing a roman with small dagger, the same fire controlling his actions as Tiberius had seen before, before he took strike to face from hilt of roman sword. The scarred roman did not linger to give final blow, instead moving toward turned back of Spartacus, sword positioned to kill.   
Already in a crouch, Tiberius' eyes found fallen sword in front of him and without thought seized it, running toward the roman even as Agron yelled warning. Tiberius buried the sword in the back of the roman with more ease than he thought possible, blood gushing from wound onto sword handle, causing him to release it as he fell to the ground.  
No sound was made as Tiberius stared at the man in the sand, one who at another time would have forced Tiberius into his bed and caused harm without thought.   
Meeting the eyes of Spartacus, Tiberius was surprised to see genuine thankfulness, instead of smugness at him raising sword to his cause. Before Tiberius could spare thought to honest consequences of this action, rough hand was wrapped around tender skin of throat, forcing him backwards until his back hit a stone pillar.  
"Why did you stop them from leaving?" Crixus demanded.   
"He killed a man!" Spartacus shouted.   
"When he saw they would not win!" Crixus answered, pressing tip of sword cruelly at throat.  
"His eyes fell to my neck, he saw the absence of my collar. If I had not allowed him in, he would have returned with more men." Crixus slowly released hand from throat and lowered his sword in explanation. Spartacus stepped forward until he met Tiberius' eyes, "You did well, Tiberius."   
His eyes flickered to the body upon the sand, knowing that now there was no chance of leaving rebellion in peace, if ever there existed before. Seeing one he had always been taught to obey no matter the demand dead upon the sand by his hand, he knew the slave branded as Tiberius would not survive this new world. But maybe the free boy who never had the opportunity to survive could.  
"Nasir," he said for the first time since he was of the age of eight, the name feeling foreign upon his tongue. Though speaking at large, he could not help but connect eyes with Agron, their conversation in mind, "My brother called me Nasir."   
Agron nodded once in understanding, staring back with something akin to pride in his eyes.   
"We must care for their horses, should they return to charge absent rider. Dispose of their bodies with the others, stripped of all valuables," Spartacus gave command to the men, "One should alert the others of safety to return."  
With deep breath, Nasir pushed away from stone pillar and made way to storage rooms, hand gently touching tender skin of neck.   
"It is safe," he called through the door, "The Romans are dead."   
After a sound of heavy wood being removed from door and the people began to trickle out, Nasir was immediately embraced by Charada, her arms wrapped tight around his chest.   
"Are you alright? Were you harmed, Tiberius? Who's blood is this?" she demanded, looking down at his hands.  
"I am well, though Tiberius no longer." he responded, eyes begging her to remember past conversation of secrecy, "Call me Nasir."   
For a moment Charada showed emotion that Nasir could not place, before it disappeared in such way he was familiar with, replaced with joy, "Truly a name I have longed to learn. The gods have blessed this day."   
"You have broken shackle of roman name?" Mira asked curiously, stopping before them.   
At Nasir's nod, she smiled at him warmly, no sight of distrust in her eyes, "Greetings, then. To a free man."   
  
By nightfall Agron was willing to thank the gods for the remaining wine. While training was going at a good pace, it was exhausting to always have to correct wrong stance or grip or where to strike. He ached for true battle, to spill the blood of romans upon the sand once again.   
As he took his meal, Agron found comfort against a wall, sitting with an unobscured sight of the courtyard and within few seconds off searching, found Tiberius. There was something about the man that Agron begrudgingly found intriguing, though he couldn't place what it was. Perhaps it was how he was so alike Duro, from his attempts to protect those around him, to the way he is lovingly bandaging those coming to him for aid. But he also exhibited traits that assured Agron that he was nothing like his brother was, he could absorb knowledge from moves and perform them perfectly within few attempts, his eyes constantly tracking, calculating. Their conversation the night before had replayed in Agron's mind for hours afterward, Tiberius' empty gaze while speaking of his brother's betrayal haunting him. His hesitant smiles that broke through his mask were so innocent it was heartbreaking. Though their stories of brothers differed, Agron found he wished to speak more with him, as if then the pain of Duro's death did not ache quite so much.   
When bowel was empty, Agron pushed confusing thoughts of the man from his mind and set out to speak to Spartacus of the training. Barely three words of the subject was passed between them before the gates were thrown open by Crixus and his men, announcing incoming romans.  
"How many?"   
"Six, maybe more. Gather the men!" he shouted. Agron was well on his way to joining the attack when Spartacus cautioned against mistake bringing larger problems.   
"Then we shall grip tightly," the gual promised.  
"There is a better way. One that will keep our movements yet hidden from the Romans." Spartacus said before calling upon Tiberius and asking question of the dominus.   
He looked equally confused as Agron, yet nodded in answer.   
"What meaning do you have of this?" Crixus demanded in a growl.   
"Should highest ranking slave answer door to Roman scouts and give story to dominus being absent of own will, would they not return to command?"   
"You would yet place more trust in a Syrian already proven to betray us?" he asked in outrage.  
"Spartacus, you cannot be serious." Agron could not help but be blunt. His friend has often spouted mad plans, but to place the fate of the entire rebellion on a flimsy act was damning them all.   
"If anything does not go to plan, we will be hidden in the shadows to take their lives. Tiberius," Spartacus drew attention toward him, "I do not wish to press decision. Think this not to aid our cause, but to ensure whatever path you choose will be traveled in safety. "   
The man was silent for a moment, obviously debating choice though carefully guarded face gave nothing away. Without warning Tiberius stood slightly taller and nodded his head in agreement to task.   
"Position yourselves out of sight," Spartacus commanded those around them, "but keep arms ready. The rest of you take cover in the villa!"  
While the blonde woman and Tiberius shared a moment of intimacy, Agron took moment to ask in confidence, "Are you certain the Romans will fall for such a simple rouse?"   
"If they do not we will have element of surprise on our side," Spartacus replied quietly, "I would prefer to use this moment to see where the boy's loyalties yet lie."  
Agron turned attention to Crixus who was now threatening Tiberius with his sword, "Should you give even slight hint to Romans of our presence, your head will roll upon this sand."   
"Enough, Crixus! The men approach," Spartacus commanded, guesting him toward a curtained wall as Agron hid behind another farther away.   
Before concealing himself completely, Agron was witness to Tiberius reverting back into that of a slave, a small, meek, submissive body that caused a bitter taste in mouth at sight. Agron hid himself completely before the roman entered and made his demands, listening intently to the tale Tiberius was spinning.  
When swords were drawn, Agron had to caution the men around him from reacting without signal from Spartacus, though his own heart was pounding with tension. There was hardly a hint of fear in Tiberius' voice with his proclamation, and with a laugh, the roman made way to leave, commanding him to return to his charge.  
Agron was nearing thanking the gods that this ridiculous plan worked when Tiberius called the men back and made promise of comfort.   
It was clear he was not the only one who found outrage in act as a gual sneered, "Fucking bastard Syrians."   
When battle commenced Agron was quick to draw roman blood, taking two lives before surprise strike upon face forced him back with blood flowing from mouth.  
Agron could see the Romans destination, Spartacus' turned back and shouted, "Spartacus!"   
Hardly had the man turned around when roman was impaled upon sword from behind.   
Standing, Agron was silent as he stared at Tiberius, noting the faint shaking of his hands as the sword fell from his grip with the roman. For a moment his face was completely unguarded, revealing that the former slave who made attempted on Spartacus' life was merely a vulnerable man seeking guidance.   
Expression was wiped however, when Crixus wrapped hand around throat and dragged him backward to a pillar, "Why did you stop them from leaving?"   
"He killed a man!" Spartacus shouted roughly.  
"When he saw they would not win!" Crixus said, raising sword.  
"His eyes fell to my neck, he saw the absence of my collar. If I had not allowed him in, he would have returned with more men." Tiberius explained vehemently.  
Agron watched as Crixus released him, Spartacus slowly moving in toward him as if approaching skittish animal, "You did well, Tiberius."   
"Nasir," he c, his eyes meeting Agron's, "My brother called me Nasir."  
Agron felt something swell in his chest at the words he knew were directed toward him, and without knowing proper words to express them, could only nod in recognition.  
He followed the command of Spartacus with little thought afterward, mind occupied with more pressing thoughts that brought easy smile to lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda want to continue, but I'm stuck between just doing the moments we see, or the few missing scenes I have in my head. Maybe I'll do both, who knows?
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Comments and kudos welcome!!


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